Hafez · Ghazal 351 · In the season of roses
حاشا که من به موسم گل ترک می کنممن لاف عقل می‌زنم، این کار کی کنم
مطرب کجاست تا همه محصول زهد و علمدر کار چنگ و بربط و آواز نی کنم
از قیل و قال مدرسه حالی دلم گرفتیک چند نیز خدمت معشوق و می کنم
کی بود در زمانه وفا؟ جام می بیارتا من حکایت جم و کاووس کی کنم
از نامه سیاه نترسم که روز حشربا فیض لطف او صد از این نامه طی کنم
کو پیک صبح؟ تا گله‌های شب فراقبا آن خجسته طالع فرخنده پی کنم
این جان عاریت که به حافظ سپرد دوستروزی رخش ببینم و تسلیم وی کنم
Hafez steps away from dry arguments and returns to music, beauty and the season of roses. He also lays down his fear: whatever his record, he trusts the flood of grace to fold it away. If you have been tired of overthinking, or anxious about past mistakes, this verse lightens your load. Your life is a trust, lent to you kindly, and the one who lent it is generous. Wait for the messenger of morning, bring your night's complaints to the light, and enjoy the season you are given.
God forbid that I should give up wine in the season of roses;
I boast of my good sense; when would I do such a thing?
Where is the minstrel, so that all the harvest of piety and learning
I may spend on the harp, the lute and the voice of the reed?
My heart has grown weary of the disputes of the madrasa;
for a while I will serve the beloved and the wine.
When was there faithfulness in this age? Bring the cup of wine,
so that I may tell the tale of Jamshid and Kay Kavus.
I do not fear my black record of deeds, for on the Day of Gathering,
by the flood of His grace, I will fold up a hundred records like it.
Where is the messenger of morning, so that I may bring my complaints of the night of separation
to that one of blessed star and auspicious step?
This borrowed soul the Friend entrusted to Hafez,
one day I will see His face and give it back to Him.